


Family

by Lafaiette



Series: Spideypool July Santa 2014 [1]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 13:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1985028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafaiette/pseuds/Lafaiette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He would have liked you a lot.”</p><p>Peter smiles at the photo in his hand and Wade, sitting next to him, shifts uncomfortably.</p><p>“You think?” he mumbles awkwardly, looking at the happy face of Uncle Ben.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkMoonMaiden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMoonMaiden/gifts).



“He would have liked you a lot.”

Peter smiles at the photo in his hand and Wade, sitting next to him, shifts uncomfortably.

“You think?” he mumbles awkwardly, looking at the happy face of Uncle Ben. Of course he has seen it before, Peter has put pictures of him and Aunt May all around the apartment, but it’s the first time they are sitting down to look through an entire photobook dedicated to him.

Peter told him about his death, one night while hugging him tightly on the bed, eyes filled with tears, and Wade did his best to comfort him and reassure him that he understood. From that day on, Peter has often mentioned him, with a nostalgic and fond tone of voice, said two or three things about his hobbies and remembered little details about him. Wade knows he was a good man, dedicated to his family, a loving and loved person, and every time he sees his smiling face he can’t help but fall silent, lost into deep, bad, dark thoughts.

Right now, he is doing the same as Peter, for the first time, starts talking about him in full detail.

There are many pictures in the photobook, depictions of distant memories and innocent joyful days, when Peter was even skinnier and his cheeks chubby, eyes framed by too big glasses; when Aunt May’s hair wasn’t all gray and the wrinkles around her mouth still hadn’t appeared. When Uncle Ben was alive and his smile lit the lives of his wife and nephew.

Wade feels unworthy of everything good that Peter has done for him, unworthy of his love and care, unworthy of his time and Aunt May’s, of their respect. He knows the old, kind woman accepted him and loves him, but how can Peter be so sure about his Uncle? How can he know that he isn’t looking down at them, up from Heaven, with a frown, judging badly their love life, shaking his head in disapproval?

Not because Peter is with a man, Wade knows enough about mister Ben to be sure of his complete approval for a homosexual relationship. But _he_ is the man Peter is with and he is not so sure, not as Peter, that his Uncle would have really liked him.

 _‘I am a mercenary. I killed people for hire until two years ago. I am mentally unstable, ugly, not as educated and brilliant as Peter.’_ Wade casts another sad, anxious look at Uncle Ben’s smile and can already see it shift into a grimace. _‘He must hate me, up there surrounded by naked, fat cupids and clouds.’_

“Wade?”

Peter rests a hand on his arm, looking at him with worry, and Wade realizes he has been lost in thought for a while, distracted by bad mental images.

“Uh, sorry, Petey, I was…” he clears his throat and offers a small smile, hoping it will be enough to reassure him. “Were you saying?”

“You seemed scared.” Peter takes his hand and squeezes it gently, still with that worried look in his eyes. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” Wade knows how much Peter loves talking about his Uncle, even if he doesn’t do it often, probably too overwhelmed by the nostalgia and guilt to do it. Now that he is finally letting himself go, he doesn’t want to ruin the moment. “I was just… just thinking about how much sweet you were! Look at you, with those lenses on your poor, tiny nose! And your legs looked like sticks, you were _sooo_ cute!”

Jokes will do the trick, right? They will convince Peter. He just has to grin and wiggle his hairless eyebrows.

But Peter’s face is blank, he is unaffected, so Wade has to insist.

“Your cheeks look so squishy in here… can I pinch them later? Even though I’d prefer to pinch something else. Something that has become really good over the years, if you know what I mean- _hey!_ ”

Peter has pinched _his_ hand, although not too strongly to avoid hurting his delicate skin. He is frowning, but it’s not the kind of frown that means trouble.

“Wade.” he says and the merc whines, knowing he is busted, that he must talk now. “Tell me what’s wrong. You were looking at my Uncle like he was some sort of terrifying creature.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Wade sheepishly apologizes, staring at his pink socks. He can hear Peter’s soft smile when he replies: “I know, honey. But now tell me why you were so scared.” Then he feels two warm lips pressing a kiss on the corner of his mouth, so he finally mumbles: “Why did you say he would have liked me?”

“Because it’s true!” Peter puts his other hand under his chin to move his head and look at him in the eyes and Wade blushes, because he is sincere and absolutely convinced. “Wade, it’s true! Were you afraid of that? Of… Of Uncle Ben’s approval?”

The scarred man looks away, pursing his lips in a sad pout.

“I know he was a good person.” he starts, the hand resting at his side tugging at the hem of his boxers and at the few threads coming out from it. “He loved you and Miss May, he cared a lot for you both.” For a few seconds, he looks at the photobook open on Peter’s lap and sees the pictures where mister Ben is hugging his nephew, looking at the stars with him, taking him to a science fair, kissing his wife, cooking with her, opening the presents under the Christmas tree…

Then he continues, voice low and frail: “That’s what worries me. I don’t know if there is a heaven up there, but if there is, then I don’t think he is that happy when he sees someone like _me_ kissing his beloved nephew and being together with him… I… I am not…”

“Wade.”

The merc timidly looks at Peter and his face becomes redder under the sea of scars when he sees his tender smile.

“My Uncle was a gentle, intelligent person.”

“I know…!”

“And he would _have_ liked you. I know that.” Peter puts the photobook aside to turn and look better at Wade, now grasping both his hands. “He would have been proud of you, just like Aunt May is. Your relationship with him wouldn’t have been different from the one you have with her. You are part of my family, Wade, don’t ever doubt that!”

“But…” Wade furrows his brows, shifting on the sofa, unable to find the right way to express what he is feeling and thinking. “But… miss May is a woman, she is like a mother and mothers…”

“And Uncle Ben was like a _father_ , a kind father who didn’t judge anybody and knew everyone has good in them.” Peter interrupts him with gentleness, moving to sit on his legs. “He and Aunt May were so alike, Wade, so united! I know him, I know he would have been as happy as her to see you with me!”

“What if he would have wanted someone different for you?” Wade insists, stubborn, because he has seen problems and enemies around himself for his whole life and it’s really difficult to accept that things are okay and nobody hates him for once.

“He would have wanted me to be happy.” Peter answers, wrapping his arms around his muscular neck, and Wade can’t help but hold gently his hips and pull him closer. “And I _am_ happy with you, Wade.”

The merc sighs relieved and puts his head against Peter’s chest, humming when he starts caressing it, brushing the itching scars with his fingertips and kissing them.

“Don’t be afraid.” Peter whispers among his kisses. “Believe me, he would have liked you a lot. He would have joked and talked with you about superheroes and sport, complained about politics, laughed with you and shared his stories. He had so many, you know?”

Wade remains silent for a few moments, then he gently pushes Peter away and smiles at him.

“Can I hear them?”

The younger man raises his eyebrows and a hint of worry comes back into his brown eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Come on, sweetums, show me those photos again and tell me more about him.” his smile grows. “I want to know him better.”

Peter’s face and smile are bright like the sun and when he starts talking, so enthusiastic and cheerful, Wade rests his head on his shoulder and looks down at the photos, listening intently and studying every detail, every smile, every pose of mister Ben. And he finally manages not to imagine him with a disappointed scowl, but with one of those warm smiles instead, while he hugs him and tells him he is happy for him and his nephew.

An idea slowly takes form into his mind and while Peter turns the pages to show him his favorite pictures, he decides it’s finally time to meet the other member of this little, beautiful family.

 

Two days later, he asks Peter to go to the graveyard together with Aunt May.

Peter looks pleasantly surprised, but doesn’t ask for explanations and hurries to call the old woman, who accepts with joy.

The trip to the cemetery is filled with laughs and the sweet aroma of flowers and neither Peter nor Aunt May asks Wade why he wants to go so bad. On the contrary, they look happy and Peter entwines his long fingers around his hand and rubs little circles on the scarred skin as they walk.

When the tall walls of the cemetery appear on the horizon, Wade abruptly says, his voice raspy with anxiety and shyness: “Miss May?”

“Yes, dear?” the old woman smiles, arm in arm with him at his other side.

“Can I ask you something about your husband?”

Aunt May’s smile softens and she nods with a positive hum; Wade looks in difficulty, so Peter brushes his cheek against his shoulder to calm him and he finally blurts out: “Would he have liked me?”

When Aunt May stops, they do as well and Wade has to muster all his courage to face her and her answer. Funny how he fought monsters, assholes with painful weapons, mad scientists, serial killers and aliens, yet a tiny, frail-looking old woman manages to make him feel so powerless and small.

But Aunt May is always gentle with him and her wrinkled face expresses only sweetness and fondness.

“Oh, Wade dear!” she exclaims. “Of course he would have! I know for certain that you two would have been best friends!”

“Just like you and me?”

“Just like you and me, dear.”

Wade blushes and lets out a relieved sound.

“So he won’t throw a thunder at me from the sky if I dare to speak to his tombstone, will he?”

“He won’t do such a thing.” Aunt May reassures him, giggling. “I am sure he will smile down at you and think how darling and sweet you are.”

“O-Okay. Thank you.”

Wade unmanly yelps when the old woman lightly hits his head with the bouquet of flowers she is holding.

“This is for having feared such nonsense.” she says with a playful smile and Wade grins sheepishly at her.

“Sorry. Peter gave me the same answer, but…”

“But you are stubborn.” Peter concludes for him with a soft laugh, kissing his cheek. “We know that, so we won’t stop reminding you that you are loved until you will finally accept it with your whole heart, Wade.”

“Damn right.” Aunt May agrees and Wade mumbles another shy “thank you” before urging them to start walking again, because he can feel his cheeks burning too much and he wants to look good in front of Uncle Ben’s tombstone.

When they arrive in front of it, Wade takes the flowers and gently places them on the grass; he takes Peter and Aunt May’s hands, a warm, good kind of shiver running through his back when they squeeze his.

He looks down at the gray stone, at the name written on it, and starts talking.

“Good morning, mister Ben.”


End file.
